


Taking A Break

by LulaIsAKitten



Series: Octavia Street musings [19]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Smut, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25096795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten
Summary: Mmm, Nick in hospital scrubs. Blame hobbeshalftail3469 for my new obsession, she started it 🔥
Relationships: Ilsa Herbert/Nick Herbert
Series: Octavia Street musings [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1096452
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Taking A Break

Nick Herbert set aside the file he was working on with a sigh and stretched. His neck ached; he’d been hunched over his desk all afternoon, writing up notes. He flicked his thumb under the edge of the much-depleted to-do stack. Three more.

Rolling his head on his shoulders, he looked across at his coffee machine on the bookcase by the window. There was a little more coffee in the jug. He picked up his mug and went to refill it.

There was a soft knock on his door as he was pouring the dregs. “Come in,” he called, setting the coffee jug back on the hot plate and switching off the machine. He turned back as the door opened to see his wife enter.

“Hello, you,” he said, grinning, as Ilsa moved across to greet him. She had come straight from court, was wearing the navy blue suit that made her eyes sparkle, a soft cream blouse that he knew moulded to her figure under the jacket, the tall heels that brought her almost up to his eye level where normally she only just reached his shoulder in her socks. He kissed her cheek warmly, lingering a little to inhale the scent of her. Twelve years of marriage hadn’t dimmed her beauty in his eyes in the slightest.

“Hello yourself,” she replied. “What happened to your clothes?”

Nick glanced down at himself almost in surprise. He’d forgotten he was wearing blue hospital-issue scrubs. He rarely wore them these days; much of his work was face-to-face consultations with patients where he tended to stick to a more formal shirt and tie, keeping his occasional foray into traditional hospital garb for his more hands-on days or when he was in theatre. He’d lived in scrubs during his student and training years.

“Long story,” he pulled a face, “involving a door, a med student in too much of a rush and a coffee with the lid not on properly.”

“Oh!” Ilsa whisked his coffee mug out of his hand with a cheeky wink and went to sit on the other side of his desk. “Ouch. Was it hot?”

“Not too bad,” he replied, sitting back down in his chair. “You’re early.”

“Yeah, we finished so I thought I’d come on over. No time to go home before dinner.” She took a swig of coffee and regarded him over the rim of the mug. “So are you coming to a swanky restaurant with Corm and Robin in your scrubs, or in a coffee-stained shirt?”

Nick laughed, picking up his pen and flicking open the next file. “Neither. I’ve got a spare shirt in the cupboard, just decided not to change till it was actually time, in case of any more beverage-related mishaps.”

“Good plan,” Ilsa replied, taking another swig of coffee. “Don’t mind me.” She waved at the files.

“Just three more,” Nick promised, and frowned down at the one in front of him. He usually jotted very brief notes for each patient as he went, but they needed writing up properly at the end of the day so that anyone could pick up the case if need be without having to be able to decipher his shorthand and doctor’s scrawl. He scanned his notes quickly and began to write.

Opposite him, Ilsa swung on the chair, spinning herself slowly in a circle, sipping his coffee.

Nick glanced up at her with a fond smile as she spun back to face him, and she wrinkled her nose at him. He went back to writing. “Not long,” he promised. He finished the file he was on, flipped it closed and moved it to the finished pile, grabbed the next.

Ilsa watched him idly. It had been a long time since she’d seen him in scrubs. She’d forgotten how sexy they were, making him look more doctory than his normal workwear of trousers, shirt and tie. Her eyes lingered on his forearms, tanned and lightly freckled from the sun, scattered with blond hairs. His right hand splayed across the file, holding it in place while his left pushed the pen across the page. His brow was furrowed a little in concentration, his keen brain recalling the cases he’d worked on that day and planned treatments.

Arousal curled warm within her at the sight of him. He’d always turned her on, had been her first lover, her first love, the one no one else had ever matched up to. She smiled softly to herself as she pictured his lithe body that was hidden under the impersonal hospital uniform. She knew exactly what he looked like naked, lithe and fit from regular running, slim yet strong.

Ilsa kicked off the tall heels and plonked her feet on his desk, legs crossed at the ankles. She slumped back in the chair and pushed her feet across the desk towards his right hand where it held the file flat while he wrote. Smiling, Nick slid his hand to her ankle, caressing the top of her foot and the outside of her calf idly while he scrawled swiftly across the page.

Ilsa slumped down further, nudging her feet closer to him, sliding her toes up his forearm. He smiled up at her, distracted for a moment, and she gave him a cheeky grin over the top of his mug, a naughty little look with an injection of heat as her toes curled around his arm. Warmth fizzed through him. Was there anything more satisfying, he thought, than being in a relationship where one both wanted and was wanted in equal measure? His fingers crept up the inside of her calf, rasping along the nylon of her sheer work tights, and she uncrossed her legs, letting her thighs fall apart a little. She was leaning so far back, he could see right up her skirt, as she fully intended.

He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, and received a searing look of heat in return that sent a frisson of warmth to his groin.

“Haven’t seen you in scrubs for a while,” she murmured. “It’s sexy.”

Nick grinned, trying to ignore the heat stirring in his body. He needed to finish these files, get them put away properly, get changed— “They’re practical,” he replied.

She chuckled a little, a low, lazy sound. “And sexy.”

“I could bring them home.” Nick smiled down at the file as he wrote.

“I could take them off you now.”

Nick stopped writing again and looked up at her. She was gazing back at him, her blue-green eyes darker than usual, her pupils wide. He knew her, knew that look of desire, and his own rose sharply in answer, pooling in his groin, tugging at the base of his spine.

“Not in here you couldn’t,” he managed.

“Why not?”

“We have a pretty open office policy at this time of day, in and out of each other’s rooms to ask questions, compare notes, trade files. Someone could walk in at any moment.”

“So lock the door,” she replied.

“They all know I’m in here, and they probably know you’re here too.”

“Even better,” she murmured, and Nick laughed, shaking his head a little.

“When we get home,” he promised. He finished his sentence, closed the file and reached for the last one, but paused, distracted by the sight of Ilsa wriggling her hands up under her skirt. “What are you doing?”

“Taking my tights off,” she replied, dragging them down with, he noticed with a start, her knickers. “Easy access.”

Nick stared at her. “You’re not seriously suggesting—?”

Ilsa curved a smile at him, lazily confident, stripping off her tights and dropping them to the floor. She sat back again, letting her thighs fall open, dragging his gaze downwards. “Are you turning down your horny wife?”

Nick put his pen down, his breathing unsteady. “No,” he replied, slowly. “But there’s only so much we can get up to in here.” He couldn’t quite see right up her skirt, the top of her thighs in shadow, but just the thought of her arousal here, in his office, was doing things to him. He gazed at her helplessly, sprawled opposite him in her neat pencil skirt, her jacket still done up across her gorgeous breasts, wanting him. He was rapidly losing control of his body, his cock beginning to swell against the front of his scrubs trousers.

Ilsa swung herself forwards, standing and making her way round his desk. Nick slid his chair back as she approached and she turned to sit on his lap, presenting her arse to him as she lowered herself onto him in a way that drew his touch, his hands sliding across the crisp material of her work skirt as she settled herself into his lap. She pressed down with a delicious wiggle that made him see stars; sliding an arm around his neck, she kissed him.

They kissed for long minutes, tongues exploring. Files forgotten, Nick hummed into her mouth at the feel of her, the taste of her. Her fingers twined in his hair, tugging a little, making him growl, and the curve of her bottom against his groin was glorious. His hand slid from her hip up to her waist, around to her front to flick open the button of her jacket, and then he was sliding his hand inside, stroking across the silk of her blouse, cupping her breast. She jumped and moaned into his mouth as he rasped his thumb across the outline of her nipple, and somewhere between one heartbeat and the next, it was suddenly inevitable that they would continue this somehow. With the warm, heavy thrum of arousal languid in his body, the question had become _where_ rather than _whether_.

It was as though Ilsa sensed his capitulation. Still kissing him, she wriggled against his swelling cock beneath her, and then shifted herself to the side a little so that she could slide a hand down between them and stroke him. Unlike more fitted formal trousers, the loose scrubs controlled exactly nothing. By the time she had finished stroking and gently squeezing, his erection was tenting the blue cotton and he’d been forced to relinquish her mouth, his breathing harsh and heavy in the large office.

“Fuck, Ils—” he muttered into her neck, aching for her. Her fingers explored, light touches now, teasing the head of his cock, maddening through two layers of cotton. He was desperate for her hand on him.

His hand slid from her breast where he had been pinching gently at her nipple, making her whimper, and up under her skirt, sliding long, nimble fingers up the inside of her thigh. With a little moan, Ilsa opened her legs for him, her thighs straining against the tight skirt.

Nick groaned as he reached the apex of her thighs, sliding his fingers into curls that were already soaking wet with her arousal. She rocked against him as he stroked her, uttering little groans of delight.

“Fuck, Nick, I want you,” she gasped and he growled and kissed her.

“I want you too,” he muttered against her lips, teasing her with his fingers, stroking her clit now and thrilling to the feel of the way she jerked in his arms as he ghosted fingertips across her.

“Where?” Ilsa murmured, then whimpered and bucked as he stroked her again.

“Um—” He couldn’t think; there was only the fierce desire pouring through his veins, the feel of her fingers on his cock through his trousers, her mouth on his neck now.

She pulled back, her hand and mouth ceasing their ministrations, and he groaned, low and urgent. “Don’t stop—”

“Where?” she demanded again. She looked as wrecked as he felt, flushed and wild-eyed.

Nick’s fogged brain struggled to form coherent thoughts. “The on-call room,” he muttered. “There’s a gurney, but it’s squeaky, it’s annoying to sleep on—”

“It’ll do,” she replied, clambering off him and pulling him to his feet. “Come on.”

“Like this?” He looked down at himself, at his very obvious erection thrusting against the front of his cotton trousers.

Ilsa giggled. “Carry a coat,” she suggested, sliding her bare feet back into her shoes. She grabbed his coat from the peg by the door and tossed it to him, pulling the door open as she did so. “I’m not wearing knickers, remember,” she added with a cheeky wink. “Which way?”

“Left.” Holding the coat in front of him, Nick followed, trying to get his body back under control, praying they wouldn’t bump into any of his colleagues. It was a lost cause; he knew everyone here. He was forced to acknowledge several people, and even to stop and answer a quick query from a student, the coat hiding his lingering semi-aroused state and at least three quarters of his brain distracted by Ilsa next to him, naked under her skirt, her hand in his, her fingernails scraping his palm lightly, making his head spin. He stumbled over the question from the eager study, unable to think about anything except the need to find somewhere to be alone with his wife _right now,_ flushing a little as Ilsa giggled softly next to him.

He bid the student goodbye, closed his hand around Ilsa’s and tugged her along with him, swinging right at the end of the corridor. They made it to the on-call room without further incident, and he dragged her in and locked the door. Ilsa grinned up at him in the dim light, cheeky, and he growled at her. She knew exactly what she did to him, always had.

“Minx,” he murmured, smiling, and kissed her, pressing her against the wall by the door.

Ilsa gasped a little against his mouth as he kissed her fiercely, sliding his hands inside her jacket, fumbling for her breasts, tugging her blouse up out of her waistband. Her busy fingers were at the front of his trousers already, teasing his desperate cock back to full hardness; he groaned and thrust against her, aching.

“I want you now,” she groaned, tugging at his waistband.

“In a minute,” he rasped, yanking her blouse up. He bent his head to her chest, pushing silky cream material up out of the way and tugging at her bra, seeking her skin with his mouth, licking across the swell of her breast, tasting her. Ilsa moaned high as he sucked at her, then tweaked aside the lace edge of her bra and tongued her nipple. She gave a low cry, her knees buckling, and a fierce stab of pleasure rocked through him that he could still have such an effect on her.

“ _Now_ , Nick,” she commanded, her best authoritative court voice nearly making him lose control completely.

“Get up here,” he gasped, urging her across to the gurney. Ilsa boosted herself onto it, wriggling to pull her skirt up. He helped, pushing at the tight material, bunching it up around her hips so that she could part her legs for him.

“Fuck, Nick—” Ilsa groaned, tugging at his waistband again. Nick shoved his trousers and boxers down to his thighs, his cock springing free, hard and aching, straining towards her. Her hands found his hips, pulling him towards her. “Please—”

He stepped into the juncture of her thighs, and paused to ghost his fingertips across her again just for the joy of seeng her buck against him and swear, her arousal fuelling his. Then, unable to hold back any longer, he seized her hips and thrust into her.

Her soft cry of relief as he filled her was almost enough to send him over the edge on the spot. The heat and give of her were incredible. All thought of the need for quiet was gone as he withdrew and thrust again, picking up a rhythm that had the hospital trolley squeaking beneath her.

Gasping, Ilsa tugged at his backside, her broken whispers pleading for more, and he obliged, rocking into her, the pleasure that they’d always found together storming through him. He wasn’t going to last, but he knew he was bringing her with him, her clutching hands urging him on, her head dropping back on her shoulders and her eyes finding his, hazy with pleasure and luminous with love.

He leaned forward and kissed her without breaking his rhythm, clumsy as his self-control began to unravel, and she kissed him back hungrily, her mouth fierce on his.

“Fuck, Ils—” Nick groaned, pleasure swelling, his release barrelling towards him fast, his hands tightening on her hips. He tried to slow down, afraid of finishing without her, but her hands clenched on his buttocks, dragging him harder against her. Gasping, Nick slid a hand between them, angling himself back a little so that his fingers could find her clit again; one gentle, feather-light trail across her sensitive flesh and she was gone, curling into him with a soft grunt, her face against his chest and her muscles clamping around his cock. With a low cry he joined her, exploding into her, jerking closer, deeper, one hand around her hip and the other sliding into her hair, pulling her whole body against him as he chased every last spasm.

Shuddering, he rocked to a halt and they clung to one another, breathing hard. Ilsa buried her face in the front of his scrubs top, panting, her hands sliding up from his backside, her arms wrapping around him.

Hugging her head to his shoulder, Nick pressed kisses into her hair. She smelled glorious, of perfume and sweat and sex, and he breathed her in, allowing his heaving breaths to slow as his heart rate began to settle. His knees felt decidedly wobbly, and he leaned into her a little, enjoying the wrap of her arms around him and the shudder of her chest against his.

Eventually Ilsa drew back a little, and he stepped away, sliding free of her. She smiled up at him, her hair a mess and her lips swollen from their fierce kisses; as ever, he was bowled over by her beauty. He kissed her gently, tenderly, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

“I love you,” he murmured against her mouth, and felt her lips curve into a grin.

“I love you too,” she replied. “I think I’d better buy you dinner after that.”

Nick chuckled, drawing away a little and pulling his boxers and trousers up over his backside. “Sounds good. I’m hungry now.” He leaned down and grabbed the roll of paper from under the hospital trolley she was sat on. It was the kind used for lining examining tables, and nobody thought too carefully about why it lived in the on-call room. It just did. He tore off a piece and handed it to her. Grinning, Ilsa cleaned herself up and slid off the gurney. She pulled her skirt back into place and tucked her blouse in.

“Do I look presentable?”

“You look edible,” he replied, grinning.

Ilsa laughed. “No, I mean do I look as if I’ve just been shagging in a cupboard?”

Nick shrugged. “We probably both do.” It wasn’t a lie. He was sure his cheeks must be as flushed and his eyes as bright as hers. Most of her hair had fallen out of the neat chignon she wore for work, and he smiled and slid his fingers into it, teasing the rest of it free. Ilsa pulled the clip out and tucked it into her jacket pocket.

“Perfect,” Nick said, smiling down at her, and she wrinkled her nose at him.

Nick unlocked the door and stuck his head out. The coast was clear. They left the little room together and strolled down the corridor back towards his office.

Ilsa tucked her hand into his and laid her head against his shoulder. “I think you should definitely bring some scrubs home,” she murmured. “We could play doctors and nurses.”

Nick chuckled, feeling light-headed, on a high of endorphins, pleasure still fizzing though him. “I’ll smuggle some out,” he promised.

She squeezed his hand. “But just now, let’s go and meet Robin and Corm.”

He grinned down at her. “As soon as we can,” he promised. “I’ve still got some work to finish, you know.”

Ilsa giggled. “Well, you should get on with it and stop getting distracted,” she said cheekily, and he laughed.


End file.
